Beneath the Branded Flag
by MorokBear-Cleaver
Summary: The legendary pirate Haknir Death-Brand sets out to find treasure at the bottom of the ocean, when he winds up in another dimension. His only friend is a halfling, and they both must walk the Lonely Path.
1. Chapter 1

Beneath the Branded Flag – Chapter 1

Haknir loved the sea breeze flow through his dark hair, he loved the ability to command his ship threw the open waves, travel where he wanted. He loved the view; the mountainside in the far distance, where it reaches the blue sky. He loved the treasure he found.

He also loved branding his crew with a hot iron, but he was in a good mood today.

Just last week, Haknir had stopped off at Dawnport, killed a few sailors, bedded a few pretty things, but also got word off an old seadog about some old treasure that had fallen to the bottom of the say in Pilgrim's trench, a graveyard of destroyed ships off the northern coast of Skyrim. Of course after that, Haknir took the ma's head from his shoulders, but he thanked him nonetheless.

By using his head as a football.

Haknir Death-Brand was a pirate. _The _pirate. He was a man of legend and left quivering wrecks of men whenever he walked past. He was feared, and it was said if you even looked at him, you should start start making your peace with the gods. Haknir had been alive for hundreds of years, which led many to believe he made a pact with the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon, who left a small scar on his cheek, the 'Death-Brand.

Of course he did make a pact with the Lord of Destruction. Haknir had a chess game with the Prince, won and then bedded his plaything, before leaving a disgusting message on the chessboard.

"How close are we to Pilgrim's trench?" Death-Brand barked to his first mate, a hardy Nord named Holfgir.

"Only a few miles sir. We'll be there next dawn!" the Nord shouted down, peering from the top of the rigging."

"Hmm, not fast enough.", the pirate turned to another sailor, and Imperial named Octavius, next to him, "Flay him alive, we're taking too long. Then take his place."

The Imperial nodded, and started up the rigging. He knew better than to ignore the orders of Haknir Death-Brand. Now, precisely everything was going according to the Nord's plan. He would find the treasure, take it all for himself, bed some more women and then loot some dead bandits after.

And burn more of his men.

The next day, at the first light of sun, Haknir got out of his fine velvet bed and opened his quarters' door. Rays of heat blasted in, and beautiful birds sung in the sky, reminding all those around that this was to be a good day. And it would be. Today was the day Haknir Death-Brand would get his treasure.

"How long now?" he asked to his new first mate.

"Not long now, Cap'n. Only an hour or so!" a voice shouted back.

"Good," Haknir nodded, "And how long from there to Solitude?" Haknir shouted, but no response came. "I said how long you fat bastard?!" Haknir lost his temper, stabbing a dagger into a wall nearby, but still no voice came back. "Bloody Imperials!" Haknir shouted, climbing the rigging himself.

But when he climbed to the top, nothing was there, but a pile of bones and dust.

"What in Akatosh's name..?" he muttered. He looked down, but where his crew once stood, only mounds of bones rested in their wake. Suddenly, a large ripping sound came from seemingly all around, and streaks of lightning filled the sky. Dark, brooding clouds flew overhead, casting a storm of rain and harsh wind in all directions. The sound of rumbling thunder was overwhelming, and the entire ship swayed side to side, each swing causing it to nearly fall into the now-black sea below. With one sharp jolt, Haknir was thrown from the Crow's Nest to the slippery decks below. Then, one of the three main sails ripped in half, crashing below. Haknir barely dodged a large wooden post that came down on him, and stood up, only to be tossed to the floor again. He crawled up the stairs at the stern of the ship and took control of the wheel, but it was stuck in place. Haknir pulled with as much strength as he could muster, but the wheel would simply not budge. He then heard yet another ripping sound, and only a few hundred metres in front of the ship, a colossal whirlpool formed, and the ship teetered on it's edge. But just before the ship fell in, the whirlpool turned into a portal. A large circle of fiery orange covered the opening to the watery pit, and the ship crashed in, head first.

But instead of breaking under the waters surface, the ship was flying. Flying through dry wind, as Haknir looked beyond the ship; he was shocked. He was no longer in Skyrim. Below him was an arid wasteland, sand covered everything. A few sharp mountains loomed in the distance, scarely touching the red sky. Several large animal bones dotted the dunes, like a rash Haknir once got below decks after he bedded a girl in Riften.

Then, the ship hit the ground.

Hard.

Incredibly hard.

So hard it's painful just reading about it.

The galleon shattered upon impact. The bow and stern made a sharp creaking sound as it snapped off. Wooden planks flew in the air, and dust flew out in every direction. Several personal belongings lay strewn on the remains of the ship. The wreck was in thousands of pieces, and Haknir felt like he was too. Excruciating pain ran across the pirate's entire back, legs, arms and neck. He felt like someone had hit his head with a warhammer, and rolled onto his back, which only made it worse. The only reason he survived, Haknir guessed, was his enchanted Stalhrim armour, which he forged himself. He looked around again, the low sound of wind whooshing through the air filled his ears.

Haknir stood up after half an hour of pain. He still hurt, but most of it had subsided. With both hands on his unique scimitars, Bloodscythe and Soulrender, he stalked on, through the dusty air, searching for anything useful, in wherever the hell he was.


	2. Chapter 2 - An Inseparable Bond

_The following story contains the character Pillby Shortbarrel, who first appears in the fantastic story, 'When the Mead Flows Crimson', by my good friend, Harry, (A.K.A., The Young Bard). This will hopefully be the start of many intertwining stories between us!_

Beneath the Branded Flag – Chapter 2

Haknir had been walking for nearly half a day, when he collapsed of exhaustion. He had no water or food, and his armour weighed down on him heavily. The sandy ground was almost comforting, for only half a minute, before it went into the pirate's lungs, and made him cough. His eyes slowly closed, prepared for his death in this alien land. How fitting it would be for a legendary pirate to die alone in a mysterious realm.

Haknir Death-Brand awoke, but no strong winds bore down on him, nor blazing sun. As he lay on his back, he saw a brown, waving sheet above, and several wooden posts holding it up. A makeshift bed and table were in one corner, against a wall of orange rock. A small fire stoked next to the bed, upon it a black cauldron sat, and from the smell, it was obvious a meal was being prepared.

"I see you're awake." a small, high voice came from behind the pirate. Haknir looked around, and saw a stout young man looking directly at him. The boy's hair was brown infused with ginger, and the hairs on his chin were clearly the first of many.

"Who are you?" Haknir asked.

"The name's Pillby, Pillby Shortbarrel. As you might guessed I am unlike any race you have seen before. My mother was a Breton, and my father a Dwarf." The stocky being explained.

"A dwarf? They disappeared years ago!" the pirate said, shaking sand from his face. Pillby did not respond to that, but instead checked how the meal was doing.

"I hope you like burnt Reaper for dinner!" Pillby said, mixing his spoon around before atsting the liquid inside.

"Reaper?" Haknir repeated.

"Aye, the halfling began, " small lizard-like rodents that run around on small legs and have claws. But I forget you've not been here long."

"What is this place?" Haknir asked, standing up and examining where they were. They were against a small rock face, in a small tent.

"I don't know. After my parents... passed away," the halfling evidently took great pain uttering those words, and while Haknir cared not for other's emotion, he wished not to intrude. He did not why he felt the way he did, but he deduced it was the fact he was alone, and irritating the only person he had was definitely not the best idea, "I started experimenting with magic, specifically the type that make a man disappear and reappear somewhere else. I trapped my soul in an unwarded pentacle, and next thing I knew I was here. Nothing more."

"Well I shouldn't be here." Haknir groaned, giving his bruised legs a shake.

"Oh?" Pillby probed, "I know fine well who you are, Haknir Death-Brand. I know the things you've done, to your own men! You have no sense of loyalty, honour, friendship. You care only about glory, and will kill your own brothers to get some. The only reason I saved you was because I'm lonely, and even if I'm stuck with a horrible, spiteful scumbag like yourself, it's better than no one." Then, the halfling poured two bowls made of bone with food, The Reaper meat was bright yellow, and tough to bite into, but Haknir took what he could get. The pirate was seemingly unhurt from the halfling's words, and thought such a being was below him.

The two ate in silence, before Pillby suggested they sleep. Haknir had no covers, but was so exhausted from the previous day's events, he caught sleep in no time.

Death-Brand woke early, and joined Pillby as they packed several pouches and left. The sun was still as bright as ever, and still nothing remotely useful lurked in the wasteland.

"You have to be careful. Reapers can spring from nowhere-" but as Pillby let loose the words, three lizard-like animals appeared from the top of a nearby sand dune. Their mouths had two rows of razor-sharp teeth and their scales resonated with a pulsating, purple glow. Haknir drew his swords, which only crumbled to sand in his hands, the gale blowing them away.

"What the blessed-" Haknir began. As he improvised, he reached for an animal bone lying on the ground. He brought it up, ill prepared for battle. To the pirate's surprise, the stout, little halfling ran towards the monsters. Although Haknir couldn't be sure, he swore he could see a gleeful smile on the little being's face. Pillby drew two small daggers, and jabbed them at the monsters. The reapers jumped back, then ran at Pillby. One of them jumped off the dune, but mistimed it's bounce. It smacked hard into the sand and fell, leaving long marks behind. Haknir wasted no time and swung the bone at the downed animal. It bounced off it's chest, but obviously hurt the creature. The reaper then got up and pounced on the pirate. A dagger then flew past the Reaper, then turned back in mid air and slit the wounded being's neck. Fresh blood spurted over Haknir, who darted out the way. Pillby then produced a chain from somewhere under his cloak and twisted it around the other two Reaper's neck elegantly. He yanked once and the monsters fell down the dune as the first one did and died on the ground in front of Haknir.

"Where'd you learn combat like that?" the pirate asked.

Pillby carefully made his way down the dune to where Haknir stood, "I was once part of a group of budding adventurers; a female High Elf named Arya, an Imperial named Anton, a Breton named Durandil, and a Dark Elf named Gildanestro. We fought together, until one day they died in some old mine, in a city near the great sea. While I was with them, I learnt so much. Most of all to always work together." The halfling took out a sword, "so take this and fight aside me next time!".

Despite the many differences the pirate and mead-drinking halfling had, for the first time in ages, it felt like everything was going to be okay and this one bond the two had was inseparable.


End file.
